


Interdimensional Carnival

by bossxtweed



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Carnival Games, Near Drowning, Other, mix between hurt/comfort and fluff? i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed
Summary: The Tenth Doctor wanders into a carnival in an alien market and encounters Missy, who just-so-happens to own the place.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Missy, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23
Collections: Thoschei Prompt Exchange 2020





	Interdimensional Carnival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThoughtsCascade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/gifts).



At this market, a small section exists to provide amusement in a near-perfect mimicry of an Old Earth carnival, with rows of booths with games calling out to passersby: here, a ring toss; there, milk bottles awaiting the perfect throw; there, a dunk tank; and many, **_many_ ** more, to where one might think this is a dimension folded inside of another, as the games appear endless and the ceiling is too far away to even _see._

“Funny,” the Doctor mutters, running a hand through his spike-y hair. “This feels like something the _Celestial Toymaker_ might put together… huh. Well. It could _also_ be perfectly harmless!”

“You, sir!” One of the attendant calls, stretching an arm outwards. “In the stripe-y suit!”

Raising a hand to point an index finger at his chest, the Doctor replies, “me?”

The attendant, a Vinvocci (green and _covered_ in spikes), nods. “Yes, _you!”_ Don’t you want to try your luck at the dunk tank?”

The Doctor follows his gaze to a curtained-off area from which a long metal pole with a small target protrudes. 

“Uh… _well._ I _suppose_ there can’t be any harm in it, can there? I mean…” he stares at the target, then at a tape-marked ‘X’ a few feet from it, and back. “Ah, what the hell!” He takes up a tennis ball before standing on the ‘X.’

“You’ll have to focus _entirely_ on your throw and do your best to _ignore_ her,” the attendant warns. He flips a switch and the curtain surrounding the tank rises to reveal a woman dressed from head-to-toe in what can only be described as something from 19th Century Earth.

“She fits the carnival theme,” the Doctor remarks, only the attendant doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Hey!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “You’re _going_ to miss this shot, y’know! **_Everyone_ **has!”

Leaning down to whisper in the Vinvocci’s ear, the Doctor asks, “what happens if I _do_ make it?”

The attendant’s smirk sends a shiver down the Doctor’s spine. “You’ll find out, won’t you? Half the fun of these games lies in the _thrill_ of finding out!”

The Doctor’s features scrunch. “Right. Well, I _suppose_ this is all in good fun, yeah? I dunk her and---win a prize?” His gaze shifts to the nearby table, covered in various plush animals (a monkey, a penguin, even a _Judoon.)_

The attendant merely shrugs. 

“Right. Well, here goes _nothing!”_

“You _can’t!_ You _can’t,_ you _can’t,_ you _can’t,”_ she singsongs in a Scottish lilt. “So far today, _137 individuals_ have tried and _none_ of them have succeeded! One might start to think these games have been **_rigged!”_ **

The Doctor closes his eyes and focuses on the beating of his hearts, though _something_ nags at the back of his mind, distracting him, and the ball flies lazily forwards, bouncing off the wall to roll back over to him. Drat. He opens his eyes and looks at the attendant. A nod. Picking up the ball, the Doctor tries again, this time with his eyes wide open. Another miss.

 _I_ **_told_ ** _you so!_ The woman’s voice sounds in his mind. **_No one_ ** _can make it when I get into their mind---or_ **_minds,_ ** _as the case might be!_

 _The Celestial Toymaker, are you?_ The Doctor asks, feeling slightly nauseous at the thought. _I take it_ **_you’re_ ** _running the place?_

 _Only occasionally. I’ve got an A.I. set up, does most of the books while I provide a pretty face for all of the press releases. It_ **_is_ ** _pretty, isn’t it?_

The Doctor gulps. _Not_ the Toymaker, then, but another Rogue of Gallifrey. The Rani, or perhaps Romana, or---maybe the _Monk?_ Or should he say: the _Nun?_

 _You’re gonna miss~ You’re gonna miss~_ she sing-songs telepathically, grinning wickedly. _You’re gonna---_

The connection breaks as the Doctor throws the ball a third time and _hits,_ sending the woman crashing down into the dunk tank’s icy water. Hah! No more can she taunt him, with her Scottish lilt and sharp gaze, and he turns towards the prizes with a smug grin and picks up a plush frog, green with bright orange spots on its back.

Behind him, the woman reaches for the bench, intending to pull herself up, only a metallic arm extends from the tank’s wall and grabs hold of her ankle, pulling her under. 

_Help!_ She screams in his mind.

He whirls around, drops his frog, and runs over to the tank. Pulling out his sonic, he points it at the robotic arm and primes it, only she cuts into his thoughts once more: _are you_ **_trying_ ** _to electrocute me?!_

Lowering the sonic, the Doctor slams one fit against the glass and snaps, “How do I get you out? _Tell me!”_

He watches as her eyes flutter shut and turns towards the attendant, screaming, “why aren’t you helping her? She _owns_ this place!”

The Vinvocci lifts his shoulders in a helpless, “what is one to do?” gesture, and he bends down to pick up the Doctor’s prize, which he holds out with a frightening smile. “That’s the game! You dunk them, they die, and then someone else is put in their place, and the cycle repeats---it’s how they did it back on Old Earth, isn’t it? As a sacrifice to appease their gods!”

“Wh--wh--” the Doctor shakes his head for a moment before stepping back to give himself a running start at the glass, which he darts at head first, shattering the tank and causing the water to burst out and flood the surrounding ground. Once its drained, the Doctor rushes forward and pulls out his sonic again, aiming at the metal arm. Sparks fly from it and the woman yelps, pulling herself free.

While she gasps for breath, the Doctor turns to yell at the Vinvocci, but he is no longer there. The Doctor turns slowly, scanning the wide space, but can see no sign of the glorified cactus and so he curses under his breath before moving to help the woman stand.

“I’m---I’m fine,” she says, shuddering horribly. “I’ve had worse.”

“No, you’re _not_ alright! You’re _trembling!”_ the Doctor begins to rub her shoulders, hoping to help her dry off through friction. 

She lifts her gaze to meet his but quickly looks away, a flush coming over her. “I’m---I’m sorry, sir,” she speaks with a thick, glaswegian accent, and hastens to remove her hat and overcoat. “This has _never_ happened before, and _you,”_ she turns towards the attendant, who has taken to cowering beneath the prize table, and draws a small, metallic device from within her skirts. Aiming at the Vinvocci, she says, “you have _one_ minute to _say. something._ **_nice.”_ **

Confused, the Doctor watches as the creature stammers, holding up both hands in protest. “I---I was only doing my job, ma’am! This is what they did on Old Earth, isn’t it? Sacrificing their young in order to appease their gods and ensure---”

“Oh, shut _up!”_ the woman cries, depressing a button on her device, but it only sends out a spark of electricity. Damn. She curses in an alien tongue and the Doctor tilts his head to one side.

“What _is_ that?” he asks, reaching for the device. “What are you trying to do to him?”

She reaches out and snatches his sonic before he has the chance to react. “Pick up your frog and walk away,” she orders, not turning to look at him. “Unless you _want_ to watch this? Our little cactus friend here is going to go _splat_ all over his prizes… shame. This _was_ one of my favorite games…”

The Doctor turns around, picks up his prize, and walks ten paces away, not wanting to abandon her but also not wanting to see the Vinvocci _go_ everywhere. He covers both ears and shuts his eyes.

“Well,” she says a moment later, moving to stand beside him. _“That’s_ taken care of! I would _say_ it’s a shame, but it’s really _not,_ given that I’ve been looking for an excuse to fire that man for nearly a _decade_ by now. At least, I _think_ it’s been a decade, but I’m not sure…”

Frowning, the Doctor asks, “who _are_ you?”

She gasps. “You _really_ don’t know? We go a **_long_ ** ways back, you and me. Back to _UNIT,_ to _Arcadia,_ to _the River Lethe,_ even.”

With wide, fearful eyes, the Doctor shakes his head. “No--- _no!_ I _watched_ you die… I held you in my arms as you _refused_ to regenerate---”

She blinks and affects a perfectly painted smile. “Oh? You _know_ I call myself ‘Deathless’ for a _reason,_ dear. I don’t _stay_ dead---it’s a bad habit of mine, I suppose…” she curses again under her breath.

The Doctor takes a step closer to her and softly, in their native tongue, asks, “are you alright?”

She matches his step with a backwards one of her own and shakes her head. “I’m _fine,_ Doctor. Just in need of a change of clothes.”

He stares at her doubtfully. “Huh. Well, afterwards, would you mind giving me a tour of the place? Seeing as you _are_ the owner… I mean, a _dimensionally engineered carnival?_ How do people _not_ catch on?”

A smirk crosses her face. “Ah.” she lifts one hand to grasp his coat’s lapel, “you see, there’s a _small_ perception filter running through the place that makes everyone view it as smaller than it really is, so anyone who steps inside thinking they’ll only stay for a few _hours_ ends up staying here for a few _decades,_ and do you know _why_ I’ve set it up like this?”

He scrunches his face, shakes his head, and runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t the _slightest_ idea, Master. Or---do you not go by that anymore?”

She tilts her head to one side, mulling it over. “Huh. Y’know, love, I think _Master_ is alright if _you_ say it, but _just this once,_ yeah? I don’t want someone to overhear and _get the wrong idea.”_

Warmth spreads over the Doctor’s face and he presses his lips together. 

“It’s a while for you, yet,” she says, dancing the fingers of one hand up his chest, “but soon enough, we’ll get to have some _proper_ fun involving b---”

He holds up a hand, saying, “no! Stop _right_ there! No spoilers!”

Her smile falters. “Alright, then. I’m going to change---would you mind terribly waiting here for me? I shan’t be long.”

“I---” she disappears before he even has a chance to answer.

“Well, then.” Somewhere down the line, the Master regenerated---could she have been born from Saxon’s deceased body? A few cells, or his life essence, or--- _try not to think too hard on it, Doctor,_ he tells himself, staring down at his plush frog.

  
“I think I’ll call you _Jamie…_ yes! Jamie.” He tosses the plush into the air and starts to pace the area, not minding the water as it soaks through his shoes and into his socks. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie! I should check in on him, I should.”

The Master returns ten minutes later, dressed now in a purple suit with yellow, white, purple, and black striped suspenders and a matching bow-tie, and she extends an arm towards him, saying, “allow me to give you a tour of this place! Not _all_ of it, though---it takes _fifteen years_ to walk from one end to the other, unless you’re a Time Lady and have _this,”_ she draws a key, dangling from a chain on her neck, from within her dress shirt, holding it up such that it shines in the light. “Or _this,”_ she pushes up her right jacket sleeve to show her vortex manipulator. “People die here all the time, but that’s part of the thrill, is it not?”

“It _shouldn’t be,”_ the Doctor retorts. “I ought to report you to the Sha--”

She shakes her head firmly, saying, “no, Doctor! You will _not_ be reporting me _or_ this carnival! We provide _entertainment_ for those who come to this market and they _always_ leave us with _raving_ reviews! Course, some of them _are_ raving mad by the time they leave, but that’s largely inconsequential!”

“It isn’t, though,” the Doctor replies, frowning down at her. Why are you keeping them all here? What’s the _point?!”_

She shrugs and flips open her vortex manipulator, enters coordinates, and takes them on a short trip to the carnival’s center, where towers a tall food truck, neon yellow with a clown decal on one side. 

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “They’ve got _wonderful_ meat pies here, fashioned after ones in an ancient novel!”

Disgust crosses the Doctor’s features. “You don’t mean…”

She smirks. “That’s _precisely_ what I mean, poppet! Would you care for one? I get _everything_ for free,” she tells him, stepping away to place her order. “I also recommend the pumpkin spice shakes---they’re _laced_ with ginger, which leads to a right _laugh_ anytime a Time Lord makes it in here.”

He watches her carefully. “Oh? Do you get a lot of our people, then?”

The Master shrugs. “Dunno. A few, every couple decades or so? I even got the _Celestial Toymaker_ himself to stay here for nigh upon a _century_ before he got out! Now _that_ was one for the books.”

The cook holds out their food and drinks, which they take before settling on a nearby bench. Various creatures idle past, some more humanoid than others, some metallic, even some _painted to_ **_look_ ** _metallic---_ those who fancy themselves robots, in another life, perhaps. But the Doctor’s eyes rest solely on the Master.

“You still haven’t told me what the point of trapping everyone here is, Master,” he says, before licking his hands clean of pie. “Though---this is _delectable!_ How do you get the--”

She quirks a brow at him and takes a long sip of her drink before answering. “Isn’t it _obvious?”_

Leaning back, the Doctor shrugs. “Hm. So long as it’s not just _one_ species, I _suppose_ it’s alright...this, though,” he holds his half-finished pie up in the air, “is _definitely_ human! I’d know the taste _anywhere.”_

The Master chuckles. “I thought you liked your humans too much to eat them, hm? Or is your morality _slipping_ in your old age?”

A flush creeps over the Doctor. _“Well…”_ he says, “what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? Least, that’s how the saying goes…”

Nodding, she takes another sip of her drink before leaning to press a kiss to his cheek.

“What was _that_ for?” he asks,

Sadness slips into her expression, just for a moment, then it’s gone, replaced with bemusement. “Just… a kiss for an old friend, I suppose. C’mon,” she stands and holds out her arm again. “I’ll take you to the exit closest to your TARDIS.”

“Can’t I just summon her? It’s real easy---I’ve got the key right _here!”_ he pulls it out from inside his coat.

She shakes her head. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. The only TARDIS that works _inside_ the carnival is _my own,_ but I’ve hidden her away from everyone. Come on.”

He loops his arm through hers and shuts his eyes as the vortex manipulator carries them to one end of the carnival, near the remnants of the dunk tank, and he reaches into his coat, looking for--- _there,_ his plush frog, Jamie.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you?” he queries, leaning towards her. “And, who knows?! Maybe I’ll figure out why you’re running this place, and for what reason.”

She laughs. “Tower of London,” she says, blinking a few times, her smile fading. 

“What?”

“You won’t remember me,” she explains, “just like the guards stationed outside the Black Archive---the doorways, or gates, or whatever you’d call them, have memory-erasing technology in them. Makes it so that guests remember the _joys_ of the carnival while forgetting all of the _nasty_ bits, such as spending _decades_ inside when they had only planned on an hour or two at the most.”

His expression falls. “All. Well, in that case, it was a pleasure spending the afternoon---or days--- _however long it was---_ with you!” He waves and steps through the gateway, where his TARDIS waits for him. She hums in greeting and he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, saying, “I really _don’t_ know what took me so long, but look!” he pulls the frog from inside his coat, saying, “I won this in one of the games! Only took a few tries, but still!”

A fond smile creeps onto the Master’s face as she watches the Doctor. _Soon,_ she thinks, turning back to her carnival. _Very,_ **_very_ ** _soon, my dear Doctor._

She turns and disappears into the crowd.


End file.
